


Of Friends and Finding Them

by GrumpyJenn



Series: Friends Through Time and Space [8]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adventure, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 00:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyJenn/pseuds/GrumpyJenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River Song has gone missing, and now the Doctor has too. Can their friends find them in the vastness of time and space?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where oh Where Has our River Song Gone?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [areyoumarriedriver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoumarriedriver/gifts), [savvyliterate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvyliterate/gifts).



_Honey, I need your help_.

That’s all the note on the psychic paper said, that and some coordinates. Since the coordinates were for a standard Earthside archaeological dig where he knew she had been, the Doctor wasn’t all that concerned really. They’d played this game before. A couple of times there had been actual Bad Things that happened as a result of these notes, but usually it was more a game of catch-me-if-you-can-my-love, and led to _other_ enthusiastic games - games of chase and/or lovemaking under skies alien to them both.

They had met Jim the Fish on one of these adventures, and gone for a picnic at Asgard on another - lovely people, the Asgardians, bit greyish, short and thin by human standards, with large and expressive dark eyes. The Doctor didn’t know why humans found them so terrifying, more so than many alien species really, bit odd that - they’d met friends old and new, defeated a few old enemies, really these games were lovely.

But when the Doctor got to the time and place indicated by the coordinates, River Song wasn’t there. He popped back into the TARDIS; perhaps he had mis-entered them, he thought, because he tended to be a wee bit less exact when it wasn’t the collecting-her-from-deep-space sort of life-and-death situation. He had entered them correctly. _Hmm_ , he thought, _bit odd, that_. He checked on friends in other places and times - although no sense in letting _them_ know he was looking for River, no need to worry any of them - with her parents in the 21 st century, with Jack Harkness ditto, and with Evie Jones in the 52nd.

No sign of River.

 _This is very not good_ , the Doctor thought, and dashed to check the chest where he kept the two crystal balls. Carrionites were still there, imprisoned in their ball, good, and so was the Celestial Toymaker. His hearts started beating again - yes, yes, they hadn’t _really_ stopped, but that’s how it had _felt_ \- and he sighed with relief that River wasn’t trapped in one of the Toymaker's games. But it did give him an idea; what if she - or her abductor if she’d been abducted - had left clues to her whereabouts...?

So he went back to the dig.

These children - archaeology students from Luna University, and had his companions often been that _young_? - hadn’t seen Professor Song ( _ah_ , he thought, _post-Byzantium for her then? Oh_ no, _what if..._ ) and his voice shook as he questioned the young men and women. No, she hadn’t been in touch with the Lux Family as far as they knew, and wasn’t it exciting that she’d made professor last week? He looked like a professor himself, was he an archaeologist too or...? Oh, more like a practical anthropologist, well, Professor Song had gone into the ruins on her own, about an hour ago; he could probably find her down there. And then they all nudged each other and whispered as he walked toward the ruins, because Professor Song was usually all work and no play...

The Doctor walked into the ruins, looking for any sign of River Song. He sniffed, caught a whiff of the spicy-sweet scent of her hair, and put his tongue to a standing stone. She’d been here; he could taste that scent, and the aura of Time that hung about her, and he closed his eyes to better focus on scent and taste. There was a... a dry smell, a dusty smell, like that of a lizard or a bird. _Not quite Silurian_ , he decided, _but definitely reptilian_. He opened his eyes.

And that’s when he saw the... was it a scale? Or a feather? It was so tiny - about the size of a human child’s fingernail - he could hardly tell which, and looking closer, he decided it had elements of both. He picked it up and balanced it on the tip of his finger to bring it close to his eyes, and as it approached his face he noticed another scent, one that made his hearts sink.

Blood.

Human-plus blood, in fact. River Song’s blood. The smell was very faint even to him - less than a single drop - and he tried to use that fact to mitigate the fear.

It didn’t work. He was afraid for her, terribly afraid that she was hurt, perhaps dying, and if he had just come right away when she had called he might have...  no... that was rubbish, unproductive rubbish. _Think, Time Lord, how can you help her?_ He didn’t realise he was rubbing the tiny scale-feather between his thumb and forefinger until he felt the pinch of its sharp base cutting into his skin, and then he let go of it with a curse. It wafted to the ground and he watched it, bemused that something so tiny could... could... _oh, it’s so lovely_ , he thought abstractedly, _the way the light reflects from the scale... feather... thing... so wibbly-wobbly..._

The Doctor slumped to the ground against the standing stone, the iridescence in his mind tasting of River’s hair and smelling of her blood. And then everything went black.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Professor Eva Jones looked up at the knock on her office door, and when her mentor - now the Dean of Luna University - walked in without waiting for her to answer, she stood in surprise. Siggy never did that, the dear man, and the expression on his face was rather alarmed. She hurried around her desk to take his arm and lead him to a sofa. He was over 100 years old, and although that was only late middle age for most humans of their time, he had been unwell since the quake of 5130. So she was solicitous with him and settled him onto the sofa with a cup of sweet hot tea before she spoke. “What is it, Professor?”

“Your friend Doctor Song,” he said haltingly, “The one who earned her pardon from Stormcage, finished her PhD, made Professor last week?” Evie nodded. “She’s gone missing. Just disappeared from her first dig as a Professor. I’m sorry to have to break it to you abruptly like this, Evie, but... well...” He put a shaking hand out to her shocked and pale face. “You know her better than anyone...” He trailed off and Evie nodded.

“Yes, I do,” she said slowly, “and I know that after all that - Stormcage and the rest of it - she would never have just _left_... she must have been taken somewhere...”

“Well, she’s a professor in _my_ school, and she was on one of _my_ field trips when she disappeared. I won’t have it!” He brought his fist down hard on the arm of the sofa, and Evie hastened to calm him, stroking his hand until it relaxed, and then kissing him gently on the lips.

“I’ll go look, Professor Siggy... she and I have mutual friends who may be able to help.”

“That young Time Agent, Boe or Jack or whatever he’s calling himself this week,” he said in a cranky voice. “He’s a good boy, but so quick to judge! Still, he may be useful - those Time Agents are good in a pinch.”

“I’ll take care of it, Professor,” she said, and kissed him gently, then left the room to go to her suite. She wasn’t particularly worried; it was entirely possible that the Doctor’d shown up and spirited River away after all. And in her suite she kept the lovely gift the Doctor and River (and Sexy Thing) had given her - well, it must be about eight years ago by her personal time line. A gift of psychic paper she could use to call the Doctor. Or River. Or Jack. But when she got to her rooms, the paper was unnecessary, because in her sitting room stood a blue box. Evie squealed and dashed up to it, wrenched open the door, and stepped inside, prepared to hear River’s cheery voice, or at least the Doctor’s.

But there was nobody there except the TARDIS herself, and she... well she didn’t speak in words did she? Not even in images, more like... concepts, yes. And the concepts she shared with Evie were not good ones.

_(my child my thief gone, can’t hear their song, another orange girl, blue-and-brown-boy, pretty one and orange girl, find my child my thief)_

_Oh dear,_ thought Evie, _they’re_ both _missing?_ “Can you show me, Sexy? Can you take me to Jack and the others?” She knew that Jack was ‘blue-and-brown-boy’ but she had no idea who the ‘pretty one’ and ‘orange girl’ were, except that she herself was ‘another orange girl’.

_(yes)_

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Cardiff, Wales, in the 21st century. Evie shook her head; there was something so magical about time travel. Oh yes, it was eleventh-dimensional physics, yes, but all the same, magic. She’d better go find Jack; she’d only been here - _now_ \- once before and she could get in trouble on her own. She shuddered to think what a 21 st century constable would think of the normal sexual behaviours of the 52nd for instance. She’d read of this century and the one immediately preceding it, and the human race had been lucky to survive them. So yes, better go find Jack.

Evie poked her head out of Sexy’s door and found that she was right outside the block of flats where Jack lived. She should’ve known, and she sent a mental apology to the TARDIS before heading out. She entered the building, smiled at the old lady sitting primly in a chair in the lobby, and started toward the lift, when the old lady hailed her. “Hello, dear, aren’t you Jack’s friend, the one who was here last month? Such a nice boy, for all he’s American, and I do hope you’re here to take him off for a holiday... he’s seemed a little tired since you left last time, just needs a good girl to keep up his interest in life, that’s all...” She trailed off, smiling toothlessly at Evie. It had only been a month for Jack, had it? But she’d seen him since the incident with the Harrowkind, and... oh. Right, of course, he hadn’t mentioned it because of that word they all used... ‘spoilers’. Evie smiled at the old lady again and assured her she’d sort Jack out, drag him off for a proper holiday if she had to, and the old woman beamed at her.

Upstairs, Evie knocked on Jack’s door, and heard him grumbling to himself as he came to open it. But when he opened it the grumbling faded and his blue eyes lit up, and he more or less just pounced on her, sweeping her up and kissing her ardently. When she pulled back for air he grinned at her. “What a lovely surprise, my beautiful Evie,” he said in that low and intimate voice that sent shivers up her spine, and he slammed the door shut with one foot and carried her to the bed. But she pushed away from him and he stopped, his expression one of concern. “Are you alright?”

“I am, Jack,” Evie said, “but River and the Doctor are both missing.” He swore, and she didn’t understand the language as she usually did, which hammered the point home; the Doctor was either too far away or unconscious - or both - for the TARDIS’ telepathic translator circuits to work for them. Jack swore some more, in yet another language she didn’t know, and then he switched to English.

“If they’re missing, how did you get here, I mean _now_? How did you know they’re missing, how--” he broke off as she put a soft hand on his arm.

“River made professor, and went missing from a field trip, an archaeological dig. I found out because Professor Siggy, who is now Dean of Luna University, asked me if I knew where she’d gone. I went to get the psychic paper - I thought I could try to contact her - and the TARDIS was in my sitting room. She said that they’re missing, she can’t... can’t ‘hear their song’, and that she needed me and you, and two other people - ‘the pretty one’ and ‘orange girl’ - to find them. Do you have any idea who they are?” He shook his head, and got up, began to pace around the room.

“No, I don’t,” he said shortly, “but maybe between us, we can get more detail from the Old Girl without burning our brains out.” And he held a hand out to her. “Shall we?”

“You don’t need to pack anything?”

“Just what I’ve already got, sweet Evie,” he said, flashing her a somewhat fierce smile, “because for rescue missions, Sexy’ll have what I need.”


	2. Never Smile at a Crocodile

River Song wished the haemogoths would either speak in a language she understood or bloody well leave her alone. The last thing she had expected was for them to actually _show up_ \- she hadn’t seen them before except in their own cave paintings but she knew who they were - and that they had been at Stonehenge, part of the Alliance trying to stuff her Doctor into the Pandorica. She’d had some suspicions that they were the source for some of the Mesoamerican myths of feathered serpent gods - that’s what she’d been checking at this dig - but likely not Quetzalcoatl himself; they were too humanoid-shaped for that.

And whatever they’d used to subdue her made her feel ill.

River didn’t like feeling unwell; herr Time Lord DNA usually precluded her getting sick and she wasn’t used to it. But whatever the drug... poison... whatever it was, it only took the tiniest bit to knock her out for what must have been hours, and she woke feeling really quite ill and she just wanted to sleep it off, but the bloody haemogoth lizard-birds wouldn’t let her. And she had had _enough_. She went to the door of the tiny room she was locked into - the whole thing was stone except the door, which appeared to be iron - and pounded on it with both her fists. Eventually a haemogoth came to hiss at her in its own language through the tiny barred window in the door, but by that point River couldn’t stop; she just kept pounding and pounding on the door until her hands were scraped and bloody, and she slid down the door to sit against it, sobbing.

And then she felt a sudden small pain in the back of her neck, and she knew no more.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“Twenty-first century London, Jack,” said Evie with a certain perplexity, “but if that’s what Sexy wants, that’s what Sexy gets, I suppose.” She opened the TARDIS door and stepped out onto the pavement in front of a row of townhouses.

They’d had little luck in getting the Old Girl to give them more detail; she just continued to send the impressions that meant ‘pretty one’ and ‘orange girl’ over and over, and Evie was beginning to wonder if she was having trouble communicating - even with her, Evie - in the absence of both the Doctor and River Song. Maybe distance, in time or space or both, was having an effect. Evie didn’t know, but she felt an urgency to find the Doctor _now_. She looked at the little slip of plastic in her hand, marked with a number six, and reached back into the TARDIS to take Jack’s hand, leading him to the matching door.

It was TARDIS blue.

Evie knocked on the door, a bit hesitantly, and when it was wrenched open by a tall and beautiful ginger woman in her mid-twenties, Evie smiled. “Hello,” she said, “you must be the orange girl. So am I.” The taller woman gave her a strange look and she laughed. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. We have mutual friends, one of whom calls you ‘orange girl’ and me ‘another orange girl’ and I think that um... ‘pretty one’ must be here with you?” The woman looked at her a moment longer and then turned her head.

“Rory!” she shouted in a broad Scottish accent, “some of... _his_ friends are here!” She turned to smile at Evie and said in a much more moderate tone, “I’m Amy, my husband is Rory and... what?” The short redheaded woman’s mouth had dropped open.

“You’re _Amy_! Oh, I’m so glad to meet you!” She gave Amy an impulsive hug and continued, “I’m a friend of River’s, oh, and this is my friend--”

“Captain Jack Harkness,” came a voice from behind Amy, who turned to put an arm around a young man with a Roman nose. Jack began to laugh.

“And the Last Centurion,” Jack said, and swept all three of them willy-nilly into a big hug. “I should have known. No coincidences when it comes to Time. That makes you,” he said to Amy, “the girl who waited. How is it that we’ve never met before?”

“Probably the Doctor chose not to introduce you for fear of _that_ ,” said Rory dryly, as Jack looked both Amy and Rory up and down with that frank sexual appraisal that was as much a part of him as breathing. “Stop it.”

Jack fluttered his eyelashes at Rory and Amy, then grew serious. “I’m sorry to have to report that both the Doctor and his wife are missing.” He waited out their expressions and exclamations of shock and dismay, then continued. “The TARDIS seems to think that she needs all four of us - orange girl, pretty one, another orange girl, and me - to rescue them. Up for a little adventure?”

“I shudder to think,” said Rory to his wife, “what the Old Girl calls the Captain here.” Jack pulled a face at him and Rory laughed, then grew quickly sober. “I’ll get my kit.” He turned and went back up the stairs. Amy looked after him with affection, and turned to Evie and Jack.

“What ‘d’you need from me?” she asked, her accent thickening with anxiety. “Rory’s got fighting and medical bits covered, but I don’t have any special skills...” She trailed off, looking worried, and Evie’s heart went out to her.

“You’re River’s closest friend, aren’t you?” she asked softly. “I’d think that would be enough to... what is it?” Amy’s pretty face had changed, her expression a strange mixture of sadness and anger and pain.

“I’m her mother,” Amy said, her voice tight and hard, and Evie made the connection as she remembered that night she met River, so many years ago. _I was... taken from my parents when I was an infant,_ River had said, _but it got better when I met Amy and Rory._ The ages were off, way off if she was any judge, but then River was part Time Lady, so... oh, who knew about their relative ages?

“I see,” said Evie simply. “That would make your presence even more important for her, wouldn’t it? She needs you.” She reached up and drew the taller woman down for a quick brush of lips on lips, only remembering as Amy started slightly that she was in the 21st century. _What was I thinking?_ She berated herself, but continued speaking as casually as she could manage. “And on a more selfish note, it might be nice for me to have someone else along on one of these adventures who’s, well... a standard human, you know?” Amy’s face relaxed into a smile and she nodded. “You and Rory ought to fit that bill well...” but Evie trailed off as Rory came back down the stairs, dressed as a first century Roman Centurion, complete with helmet and short sword. And an enormous first aid kit. Evie’s eyes widened and Amy glanced at Jack.

“I take it _he’s_ not a ‘standard human’ either?” she asked. “It’d be easier if they didn’t all _look_ human, yeah?”

“Hey!” protested Jack, “I’m as human as Rory is! Want a sample of my humanity, anyone?” He leered in friendly fashion at all three of them. Evie laughed.

“Um... let’s go back to the TARDIS and pool our knowledge,” she suggested, and held up a hand to Jack. “ _Knowledge_ , lover, not anything else just now, okay?” Jack pouted at her, but held a hand out to each of the other two. They accepted, and the four of them made their way to the blue box on the pavement.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

When the Doctor came back to consciousness, it was all at once, not gradually in the way in which he had lost it. He sat up, gasping, and... stopped, holding his breath, the better to listen to the sound he heard.

A woman was weeping.

And it sounded like River.

“River?” His voice was hoarse, and he supposed that it was an after-effect of whatever had knocked him out. He cleared his throat and swallowed several times, then tried again. “River, are you alright?”

The crying stopped, and River’s voice came to him. “I... I... Sweetie? My love, I...” The voice trailed off, but then there was the sound of violent illness, and the Doctor winced. He waited until the retching sound stopped, explained what he was about to do, then stood up and looked around him. The cell was tiny, barely a couple of metres wide and long and tall, and made of stone. The door appeared to be - and tasted of - iron, slightly rusty but not far enough along in the oxidation process to help him.  But River was sick, and that had only happened the one time that he knew of, and he was going to get to her right now, if he had to... he felt in his pockets and his hearts sank as he realised his sonic screwdriver was missing. Nothing for it but to use his other best tool then.

He spoke in Gallifreyan, not knowing what species had captured them both, and hoping against hope that whoever it was, they would know enough to at least respond. He started quietly, but when there was no response he got louder, letting the slow-burning anger loose. These people had his wife and she was ill, and they had better let him look after her _right now_!

And finally he got results. There was a muffled curse in a language he knew somewhere in the back of his mind, and the heavy iron latch on the door to his cell scraped open. As the door swung slowly outward, he peered into the gloomily-lit hallway, clamping down on the anger in the hope that they would help him help River if he wasn’t shouting at them ( _unless they were Sontarans of course,_ he thought _, Sontarans responded_ better _when you shouted at them, but they weren’t Sontarans, they were something lizard-y and bird-y and..._ focus!).

The door opened to reveal a being that looked rather like a tall Silurian with a longer snout, except that there was a crest of iridescent feathers and what looked like vestigial feathers at the wrists. It spoke to the Doctor in a hissing, slithery sort of language that was nonetheless beautiful. “What is it that that one wants with this one that that one should cry out in a voice loud enough to wake the Ancestors?” The feathers on its - _her?_ thought the Doctor, _yes, her_ \- the feathers on her crest stood up and the Doctor nodded and spoke in her language, watching body language carefully; no sense in antagonising them further.

“That one has this one’s mate alone in a box. This one’s mate is unwell and needs tending,” he said carefully, noting as the lizard-woman’s eyes widened and her crest stood up still further - perhaps it was in alarm? He didn’t know. But she spoke again.

“That one’s mate has stolen from the Ancestors and used the treasures of the Ancestors to feather the nest of that one and that one’s mate! The penalty for such a crime is death but that one’s mate - and that one one _self_ \- does not die with the blood-poison! That one and that one’s mate are unnatural and must be studied.” Her crest was furling and unfurling with agitation as she spoke, and the Doctor smoothed back his own hair - it looked like feathers _down_ meant _calm_ , so he did his best to emulate the body language, to reassure his captor. He thought rapidly - _their toxin must be fatal to humans but not Time Lords_ \- as he waited for her to respond, calming herself, and then he spoke.

“This one is not of the kind that dies from the blood-poison,” he said as quietly as he could manage. “This one is of the kind known as ‘Time Lord’, not the kind known as ‘human’. Human kind dies from the blood-poison. Time Lord kind only _sleeps_ from the blood-poison.” She looked at him with an expression he interpreted as _suspicion_ , but said nothing so he continued. “This one’s mate does _not_ steal from the Ancestors to defile their nest. This one’s mate seeks to _learn_ , to preserve the histories of the Ancestors ( _and may River never hear that I’m defending archaeology!_ he thought). This one’s mate is ill and must be tended. _Please_ , allow this one to tend this one’s mate!” _I hate languages with no pronouns,_ that part of his mind always separate from the task at hand said dryly as the lizard-person looked at him again... and was her expression slightly less suspicious now? Maybe.

“Why then is that one’s mate unwell? Surely if that one’s mate is also of the kind known as Time Lord, that one’s mate would not be making sounds of distress?” Is her tone triumphant in that she’s made a point? wondered the Doctor, or maybe even a bit concerned? He spread his hands in a gesture of dismay.

“This one’s mate is partly of the kind known as Time Lord and partly of the kind known as human,” he explained, “and this one’s mate is ill but not dead from the blood-poison.” The lizard lady let out a noise that was half-hiss, half-grunt, and he took that as noncommittal acknowledgement. “May this one have that one’s name? This one’s name is Doctor.” She didn’t react to his name except to make that noise again and he inwardly breathed a sigh of relief; at least she wasn’t someone who wanted him dead just on principle.

“That one’s - Dok-tor’s - mate’s name is...?” She trailed off delicately and he took that to mean he must share River’s name before she would share her own. Names were very important to many races after all.  The problem was that there was no word in her language for River... it would just by syllables to the lizard, but he tried anyway.

“Doctor’s mate’s name is River,” he said and she closed her mouth over her teeth in what he decided must be intended as a non-threatening expression. She tilted her head to one side, looking very much like a curious bird.

“Dok-tor means Healer. What is the meaning of the name of Riv-er?” she asked, and he thought fast. She had known the meaning of his own name, at least well enough to accept it as a name. But she didn’t know the meaning of a word like _River,_ which suggested... what?

“Water-that-moves-swiftly,” he said, and hoped it was enough. The lizard-woman looked down her snout at him then and held out one delicately-clawed hand, beckoning him out of the tiny room. She put the hand on his shoulder and turned him toward another cell, behind the door of which he could hear River crying again. “This one thanks you,” he said, trying to keep the choking feeling out of his voice, “for this one’s mate is still unwell.”

“So this one surmised,” she responded, “because although the water from the Riv-er’s eyes flows swiftly, the Riv-er moves slowly and carefully, as though the Riv-er is injured.” She looked consideringly at him as she laid her hand on the door latch. “This one’s name is Isrea,” she offered almost shyly. “Isrea also has the meaning of moving-water. Moving-water-over-pebbles.”

“That one’s name is lovely, Isrea,” he said gently, “and Doctor thanks Isrea for allowing Doctor to tend to River.” She flipped open the heavy latch - those claws must be stronger than they looked - and pulled the door open. When he saw River huddled in the corner, her wild curls matted with sweat, he wanted to cry. “Oh, my River...” he breathed and entered the tiny room, kneeling next to her as she reached a hand toward him beseechingly.

The Doctor bent to tuck a wayward curl behind her ear but as his fingers touched her, he heard her voice in his mind, shrieking at him to _get away, just get **away**_! And then his head snapped back as though she had planted a right hook to his jaw.

 

 


	3. And Jill Came Tumbling After

“Let me get this straight,” said Amy, bemused. “You’re River’s friend, Evie, from Luna University in the fifty-second century. Jack was there too, but called something else at the time. Jack knows the Doctor from his days with Rose and later with Martha, and Jack knows Rory from the twentieth century, when Rory was watching the Pandorica with me in it. Have I got it all?”

Evie laughed. “It does sound a bit much when one lays it all out like that,” she said, “but that’s the essence, yes.” She patted Amy’s hand. “It has been noted that there are few coincidences with time travel, and just the fact that we’re thirty centuries apart in birth accounts for a lot of that... I hope I didn’t alarm you earlier when I kissed you,” she said candidly, “I forgot for a moment that you’re from the 21st century, and you seemed to need it.” She smiled at the taller woman, who blushed.

“I wasn’t alarmed,” Amy said, “and I wasn’t offended. Just... surprised.”

“We’re a touchy-feely lot by your century’s standards,” explained Evie earnestly, “and I’m a psychiatrist, so I’m even more so than most. What... Amy, what is it?” Amy’s face had changed, becoming guarded for just a moment. Evie squeezed Amy’s hand. “What did I say?”

“Nothing,” said Amy hastily, “it’s nothing. I um... I had a bad experi... four bad experiences with psychiatrists when I was young. They kept saying the Doctor wasn’t real. I um... bit them.” She blushed again and Evie laughed.

“You’re welcome to bite me if you like,” she said, “though I’d prefer you didn’t break the skin.” She gestured at Amy’s flaming red cheeks. “I have that ginger skin that bruises and breaks easily, just as you do.” She looked at Amy seriously for a moment and, giving her plenty of time to pull away, slowly drew the taller woman’s face down to hers and laid her lips gently on Amy’s forehead, then cheeks, then lips. “The practice of psychiatry has changed somewhat in the past thirty centuries,” she murmured, “and we’re much more personalised.” She pulled her lips away and wrapped her arms around Amy, bringing Amy’s head down to rest on her shoulder. Amy trembled slightly, and then wrapped her own arms around Evie’s waist, and they just sat there holding each other, until the men came into the room.

Jack looked as though he might make one of his usual cheerfully lascivious suggestions, but Evie gave him a look comprised of both warning - _don’t worry Amy_ \- and promise for later. He changed tactics and smiled at the women. “Hello, ladies,” he said, blue eyes twinkling, “Care to make room for a couple of fighting men on that sofa?” The women broke apart and scooted to the ends of the sofa with space for Jack and Rory between them. Rory sat and pulled Amy’s feet into his lap, and Jack shook his head, picked up a giggling Evie and sat down in her spot, snuggling her back into his chest and dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “Hello, lover,” he murmured into her hair, “Anything new in the asking-Sexy department?”

Evie shook her head. “I’m having trouble getting anything solid from her. She feels worried, and she’s taking us all somewhere, but that’s all I’ve got. It’s like she _can’t_ tell me. None of us can fly her, so we’re just along for the ride for now.” She sighed and snuggled deeper into Jack’s embrace, noted with amusement that Rory was rubbing Amy’s feet. Bit incongruous a picture, that, the tall woman in the short skirt, her feet being rubbed by a man in full Roman warrior garb.

“Right then,” said Rory decisively, “We need to decide who’s doing what when we get there, wherever _there_ is.” He looked around at the four of them. I can fight and I’m a nurse. Jack’s on fighting too, seeing as he's indestructible and all. Evie?”

“I’m a doctor - a psychiatrist but I have medical training. I’m a touch telepath. I’m a little small for fighting unless it’s self-defence.” She smiled. “I usually let Jack and River take on the bad guys.”

Amy piped up. “I can shoot. I can probably convince River to come with me even if she’s hurt...” she trailed off, looking uncomfortable, then blurted, “You’re a telepath, Evie? Were you um... reading my mind just now, when we...” Evie was shaking her head, and Jack laughed softly.

“You sound like me, Amy,” he said, “a _long_ time ago. She won’t read your mind without your permission unless you’re a danger to others. She’s too ethical for her own good.” He nuzzled at Evie’s ear. “Your concern is obvious to anyone who’s looking, Amy; you’re so worried about River and the Doctor that it just _shows_. She didn’t have to read your mind to get that.”

And then it was all too much for Amy, her missing daughter, her missing Doctor, the sympathy of these people she’d never met before, just too _much_. Burying her face in her hands, Amy began to cry, and as Rory put his arms around her, Jack and Evie slipped away.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“What did you do to her?” the Doctor shouted at Isrea - in English - before he thought. At her confused look he took a deep breath, then continued in her own language. “What has Isrea done to River that River is hurting?” he asked pleadingly, and marvelled that some gestures were universal as she wrung her hands in distress.

“Isrea has done nothing to Riv-er,” she protested, “Only the blood-poison in the nest of the Ancestors, and the blood-poison only made Riv-er _sleep_. When Riv-er hurt Riv-er’s hands and shouted, Isrea gave Riv-er more blood-poison to make Rive-er sleep _again_.”

The Doctor sighed. “The Doctor feels shame for shouting at Isrea,” he apologised formally, “but the Doctor is afraid for River. The Doctor believes that the second dose of the blood-poison has made River ill, not made Riv-er sleep. The...” he searched for a way to say it and her crest started to flare in time with her wringing hands. He decided to keep it simple. “The blood-poison has made River hurt when River is touched, the Doctor believes.” _There_ , he thought, _Isrea knows my name means ‘Healer’; she might accept that_. “Is Isrea a healer? Or does Isrea know a healer who knows the ways of the blood-poison?” _If I can get an expert in here, between us maybe we can figure out what’s happened_... but Isrea spread her hands in a gesture that was clearly negative and his hearts sank.

“Isrea _is_ the one with knowledge of the blood-poison,” she explained, “and knowledge of the Ancients. Others of the Haemogoth have knowledge of other things. May Isrea try to study Riv-er? Perhaps Isrea can determine what is causing Riv-er hurt.” Her crest raised again and she said, “Isrea feels shame that Riv-er is ill from Isrea’s actions...”

If he hadn’t felt she would take it as a hostile gesture, the Doctor would have smiled at Isrea. _She’s willing to kill anyone who defiles the tombs of her Ancestors,_ he thought, _but the idea of_ hurting _one of them fills her with shame. Or maybe it’s that now she understands that River is like her - one who only wants to_ learn _about her Ancestors... bit like the Sontarans really; certain people are off-limits... or that other culture, who was it now? Where killing is just fine but torture is not. Hmm... wait,_ focus!

“Isrea may try,” said the Doctor, “but Isrea may be injured as the Doctor was, if Riv-er is still hurting.” The reptile nodded human-fashion - _she is quick,_ thought the Doctor - and slowly approached River. She was no longer retching, nor was she fully conscious, and that last worried the Doctor. He crouched as close as he could to her without touching her, and spoke in English so she would understand. “River... this is Isrea; she is a... a healer or a priest among her own kind. She’d like to examine you to see why you can’t--” his voice broke for a moment, then steadied, “Why you can’t bear for me to touch you. Okay?” River _seemed_ to understand although it was difficult to tell, and the Doctor motioned to Isrea, who dropped to a cross-legged position on the floor and took River’s chin gently but firmly between two fingers.

She tipped River’s face up to look into the green eyes and her own eyes widened, her crest flattening in an expression of relief. “May this one ask the Dok-tor questions about Riv-er?.” He nodded and she continued, “Does Riv-er have the...  can Riv-er speak in Dok-tor’s head?” She touched River’s temple gently, then the Doctor’s and he understood.

“Not always, River can only speak in Doctor’s head when Doctor and River are both... near, touching, and both _choose_ to speak or hear. The speech-in-the-head is called _telepathy_ , and telepathy is only by choice and while touching for Doctor and River.” Isrea nodded.

“Haemogoths have not this speech,” she explained, “but many species of Others do. Riv-er cannot now _choose_ the te-le-path-y; and when the Dok-tor touches Riv-er, the... the...” she seemed to be searching for a word or a phrase. “The te-le-path-y is _shouting_ in Riv-er’s head and the shouting is causing hurt. Riv-er will be well when the blood-poison is... gone. But this one does not know how many sun-circles the blood-poison will stay. Riv-er has not the skill to control the speech-in-the-head...”

“And so her mind interpreted my touch as an attack, and lashed out at mine,” mused the Doctor in English, then switched back to - _had she called it Haemogoth? Mmm - blood-poison, Haemogoth, makes sense, wait, weren’t they part of the Alliance at Stonehenge in the..._ focus! - switched back to Haemogoth. “Doctor’s mind has this speech when touching, and when Doctor touched River’s face, River’s mind shouted _very_ loudly, loud enough to hurt Doctor’s face,” he interpreted, and rubbed at the very real bruise on his jaw. Isrea made a hissing noise he decided was rueful laughter. “Will Isrea care for River until the blood-poison has gone?” he asked, and she nodded that very human nod again. “And will Isrea help Doctor and River go back to where Isrea found Doctor and River, when River is well?” She made a scoffing noise that the Doctor took as assent - _of course I will, what do you take me for?_ \- and he smoothed his hair back in an approximation of her calm-crested state as she gently pulled River to her feet and led them out of the tiny cell-like room.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

Jack stroked Evie’s hair in the warm afterglow of their loving, and felt a lump come into his throat. He had had his own tragedies - the deaths of those he loved, outliving some through age, some through violence or accident. He knew he’d lose Evie that way eventually too; she’d die of old age or illness in another hundred years or so. But when he thought about the tragedies of his friends; River and the Doctor’s strangely backward timelines, and Amy and Rory’s loss of their daughter as an infant, all of it, well... he didn’t blame Amy for her tears; she was entitled. He started as Evie put one hand up to his face.

“You’re troubled, Jack. Can I help?” He sighed.

“You already have, Evie. You always do. It’s just...” Jack gestured in a large circular motion, “...all this. I thought Rory had it rough when he was waiting for Amy, but _this_... their lives are even more complicated and tragic than mine, and that’s going some.” He sighed again and snuggled her close. “I love you, Evie.”

“And I love you, Jack,” she returned, then switched topics. “You know, from a psychiatric point of view, they’re very interesting.” He grunted and she continued. “Amy’s troubled - understandably - and Rory... Rory is more focussed on Amy than I have ever seen anyone focussed on another person.”

“I’ll have to assume that the time we spent together while he was waiting for her to be released from that box was not the beginning of a deathless love affair then,” Jack said, pouting in mock sorrow, and smiled at her, “since Amy was um... unavailable at the time.”

“You were what he needed at the time, Jack, as he was to you,” Evie said seriously. “You’ve told me about Alonso, and Rose, and how they were what you and the Doctor needed at those points in your lives. I think you and Rory were the same way.” She snuggled closer and kissed him. “Just like I’m what you need now, I hope.”

“Always, beautiful Evie,” he said sincerely, and loved her again.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

The new room Isrea provided was still made of stone, still had an iron door (thought this one latched on the inside), but was much larger, had a window, and contained two comfortable beds. When the Doctor asked Isrea about the difference, he got a long and complicated answer, the gist of which was that this was the Haemogoth equivalent of a church-run hostel. The rooms they had been held in were what he gathered were penitents’ cells, and this one was a room intended for high-level clergy. Or _had been_ intended as such; it seemed that Isrea was the only one left here. She had said - crest up and indicating sadness or distress - that most of the Haemogoth no longer observed the worship of their ancestors, that they were “out in the darkness, meddling in things that the Haemogoth should not”.

This was something of a relief; it seemed that if he was right, if he _did_ recall River saying the Haemogoth had been part of the Alliance against him at Stonehenge, then Isrea at least had not been part of it, in fact would disapprove of it. Her worldview seemed fairly simple... if it interferes with the Ancestor’s burial grounds, kill it, otherwise leave it alone or try to fix it if you make a mistake. Oh, there were probably nuances of which he was not aware, but that seemed to cover the basics. Not a bad code to live by, taken objectively. He himself preferred running to killing, but he’d had to do both. And he was rubbish at leaving things alone. Except people... he left people alone rather too often. Which reminded him of what he was doing; Isrea was staying with River while he went to her kitchen, found things that were safe for River to eat. He’d better get back.

When he entered the room, balancing a tray with suitable vegetables on one hand whilst opening the door with the other, he saw that they were there. His best friends, his very best friends, come to help him and his River. Tears prickled behind his eyes and he was just about to give them a cheery _Hi Honey I’m home_ , when he saw what had happened. Evie lay in a crumpled and unconscious heap against the wall opposite River’s bed, Jack bent over her form babbling at her to _please wake up, please, Evie, wake up_.

And River was sitting up in bed, her eyes unseeing and staring at nothing, mouthing the words _I’m sorry,_ and shaking like a leaf as her parents held her in their arms.


	4. They all Fall Down

The Doctor dropped his tray with a clatter and thought fast. _See to Jack and Evie first, Rory and Amy have River._ He dropped to his knees next to Evie’s prone form, ready to help Jack however he could, but was taken aback when Jack snarled incoherently at him. He took a careful look at Jack then, saw the panic, and grabbed his hands, holding them tightly. “Jack.” The Doctor’s voice was quiet but intense. “Jack, you can’t help her if you’re hysterical. I’m sorry she’s hurt, I’m terribly sorry, it’s my fault, but this isn’t helping. Jack.”

“Don’t you think I _know_ that?” It was still nearly a snarl, but much less frantic, and the Doctor let go of his hands. Jack took a deep breath. “Help me,” he said in a much calmer tone. “You can tell me what the hell happened once I’m sure she’ll be OK.” The look he gave Evie was so loving, so _desperately_ afraid that she was badly hurt, that the Doctor felt that lump in his throat again.

“It’ll be alright, Jack,” he said softly, “We’ll look after her.” Jack nodded shortly, not looking at him, and lifted Evie’s limp body, deposited her gently on the Doctor’s bed. She murmured and turned over. The Doctor noted with relief that the blood on the stone wall and floor was minimal; at least there would not be blood loss to deal with, and if Evie was moving, even still unconscious, she would be okay. Eventually. “Isrea,” he said in the Haemogoth language without even looking round to see if she was there, “This one needs bandages and solid-cold-water for the one called Evie. Can Isrea obtain bandages and solid-cold-water?” Isrea peeked carefully out from where she had hidden behind the door and nodded once, the scuttled out of the room. “Check her pupils, Jack,” he said, switching to English, “and tell me how you found us.”

“I already did, Doc,” said Jack, sounding much more like himself, “and she definitely has concussion but I don’t know if there’s anything else. And the TARDIS brought us of course; she took Evie and me to pick up Amy and Rory and brought us here. What?” The Doctor’s mouth had dropped open.

“I can’t sense her,” he said, almost inaudibly. “Jack, I can’t feel Sexy in my mind.” His voice got louder as he began to panic. “Jack, did you understand what I just told that alien, the one who runs this place?” It was Jack’s turn to look shocked as he realised that he _should_ have understood; the Old Girl was here, the Doctor here and conscious, and her telepathic translation field should have kicked in. He shook his head and watched the Doctor grow pale before he grabbed the alien by the shoulders and shook him gently.

“Doc, you can’t get hysterical either. Pull yourself together.” They turned as one to the bed where Evie lay as they heard her make a small noise. She opened her eyes, groaned, and closed them again.

“She wouldn’t talk to me,” Evie croaked, not opening her eyes again. Jack sat on the bed and hushed her, stroking her hair back from her face, but she batted his hands away. “Please don’t, lover, my head hurts.” Jack choked out a half-laugh as she continued, eyes still shut. “Doc, the TARDIS was nearly silent all the way here. We thought it was because neither you nor River were aboard, but now...” she trailed off and frowned. “Does anyone have a good painkiller? What _hit_ me?”

There was a sudden silence, punctuated only by River’s _I’m sorry_ muttered under her breath, and Evie sat up, opening her eyes. She waved off Jack’s supporting hand and swung her legs off the side of the bed, wincing with pain. When she tried to stand, however, a wave of dizziness swamped her and she sat again, abruptly, as Jack grasped her arms and supported her swaying body. “No,” she said simply. “River wouldn’t hurt me. She never would.”

The Doctor sighed and took Evie’s hands, kneeling at her feet and looking up at her. “It wasn’t her fault, Evie,” he said, “She’s under the effects of what my friend Isrea - who just went for ice and bandages - calls “blood-poison”. I think it’s a natural venom her people produce, and she used too much of it on River in trying to subdue her. It--” He broke off as Isrea came into the room, because Jack let go of Evie’s arms and lunged at the tall alien, pinning her against the wall with his forearm across her neck.

Evie shrieked, “Jack, _no_!” and the Doctor leapt to his feet.

“Jack.” The Doctor’s voice was calm. “Jack, it’s not her fault either. Just a mistake, a big mistake but only a mistake. Her venom made River’s mind too sensitive, and when Evie touched her, her mind fought back. It. Was. An. Accident. Trust me, Jack, she meant no harm, it was an accident, both Evie and River will be well, we’ll look after them, I promise, they’ll be okay.” As he spoke, he edged closer to the immortal, and by the time he got there, the wild fury had left Jack’s eyes, although he still had Isrea pinned to the wall. Her eyes were wide and her crest was higher than the Doctor had ever seen it, so he spoke to her in her own language, in the same calm tone he had used on Jack. “Isrea, that one,” he pointed, “is called Jack, and the one called Evie is Jack’s mate. Evie has the speech-in-the-head and when Evie touched River, River’s mind injured Evie. Jack is angry that Jack’s mate is injured.”

Isrea’s crest was still up and her eyes still wide, but she was able to speak. “Isrea feels shame that Isrea’s use of blood-poison caused Riv-er to cause hurt to Ev-ie. How can Isrea make amends?” She trembled as the hissing sound of her speech startled Jack into pushing her harder against the wall. “Isrea does not _wish_ to give Isrea’s life in exchange for the hurt to Ev-ie and Riv-er, but Isrea _will_ if such sacrifice is required.” This was said with such simple dignity that the lump in the Doctor’s throat returned and he had to swallow several times before he could speak again.

“Let her go, Jack,” he said tiredly. “She’s willing - not eager, but willing - to give her life out of shame for hurting River, and Evie by extension. She’s not fighting you. Let her go.”

“Please, Jack,” said Evie, with tears behind her voice. “I’ll be fine, and it was an accident. Please.”

Jack gave Isrea one last shove into the wall out of pure frustration, and then let her go, crossing over to sit by Evie once more. She reached up to touch his face and he buried it into her hair where he could press his lips gently to the lump in the back of her head, closing his eyes and holding her close. “Doctor,” Evie said slowly, “I think I know why you can’t hear Sexy, and why she’s not translating.” That got everyone’s attention, except River, who was still staring at nothing and murmuring apologies. Isrea didn’t understand Evie’s words, but she was watching them all warily as she picked up the fallen metal bowl containing bandages and solid-cold-water, and her attention was on the one called Ev-ie, who was speaking and injured and whose mate was so very angry.

“I think,” continued Evie, “that Sexy knew - _knows_ \- that River’s mind can’t bear to be touched right now, and that her telepathic translation field would be just as bad as - if not worse than - being touched by a touch telepath. So she’s keeping her mental mouth shut.” She watched the lizard-alien - Isrea, the Doctor had said - as she crept toward the bed with ice in a soft cloth. “Doctor, will you please tell Isrea I’m grateful for the ice, and that I will do my best to keep Jack from hurting her again.” She turned to Jack and kissed him hard on the lips, distracting him as the Doctor translated and Isrea gently placed the ice pack on Evie’s head, deftly wrapping bandages around to keep it there. Then she backed away as fast as she could, and Jack sighed into Evie’s mouth.

“Alright, Doctor, tell her I’m sorry. I won’t hurt her again,” he said, breaking off the kiss he shared with Evie. “I didn't mean... oh _hell_.” Evie smiled up at him. The Doctor relayed the information to Isrea, and Jack was surprised that he could pick out his name and Evie’s in her reply. By the time the crest of feathers on top of her head smoothed itself down against her skull, Jack was willing to admit that not only had he misjudged her intent, he hadn’t realised how pretty those faintly iridescent scales were. _And the delicate feathers at her wrists... those could... hmm... maybe once the translation field is back on, Evie and I could... make my amends..._ He shook his head and blinked. Evie would understand but the rest would think the timing of these thoughts... inappropriate. Alright then. “So, back to the task at hand...” He looked at the other bed.

River was sitting up but still glassy-eyed. She had stopped chanting apologies under her breath though, and Jack counted that a good thing. Amy was murmuring something inaudible into River’s ear, and Rory was taking her pulse. He gave Rory an inquiring look and Rory spoke. “She’ll be alright, the Doctor says,” he said, “but nobody knows how long it will take and those who could check can’t touch her without getting a mental blow to the head. As for the physical, well, she’s a little shocky, bit dehydrated, but basically OK.”

“She’s _not_ OK, said Amy, her Scottish accent thick with anxiety, “It’s like the bloody universe is out to get our baby. _Still._ When will it be enough?” She hugged River tightly, and sighed. “But she will be, the Doctor says, so we have to accept that. _Again_.” Her voice was more than a little bitter, and the Doctor winced. He _hated_ this. He opened his mouth to apologise again, but Amy interrupted. “You shut up, Raggedy Man. This is not your fault.”

“But--”

“Shh!”

He subsided, looked around the room at them, all watching him expectantly. “What?”

Evie smiled at him. “We’re waiting for you to tell us what happens next,” she said. “We came here for you, and for River. What now?”

The Doctor stared at her. “I... I don’t...” _I haven’t the faintest idea_ , he thought, and maybe she picked up on that; she was a trained telepath after all, and even more of an empath... and emotions had been running high here today.

“Alright,” she said matter-of-factly. “Let’s see... clearly River can’t go aboard Sexy until she’s well, because I don’t even want to _think_ about what her poor bruised mind might do to your ship...” she trailed off as she heard Amy mutter something like _or what the ship might do to retaliate_... and then continued, “so I think you’d better ask your friend there whether she has another couple rooms available... and then you’d better go have a private talk with your other wife, just to reassure yourself. I’m sure we can make do here.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“What d’you really think, Rory?” asked Amy anxiously of Rory once they had their own room. “Will River be alright? Truly?” He nodded. “Well then,” she said in a lower tone, “Shall we celebrate?” She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, and he fumbled to lock the door as she led him to the bed.

“What do you think of Jack and Evie?” Rory asked Amy a while later, as they lay snuggled together in the afterglow, and Amy gave a half shrug.

“She seems nice, and hmm...very practical, for all she’s so sweet. God knows the Doctor could use someone practical. Jack’s um... well...” she trailed off and Rory laughed and kissed her.

“Yes, he is. Um, _was_ , when you were in the Pandorica and I--”

“--he helped you stay out of trouble badly?” she suggested, and he blushed. “Don’t worry, stupid face, I’m not going to run off with him no matter how pretty he is, and I’m not worried you will either. Not as long as I’m not locked up in a box for centuries,” she said with a trace of arrogance, secure in the knowledge of how much Rory loved her.

 

 

 

 


	5. And Wipe Your Tears Away

Jack and Evie walked hand in hand in the exotically alien gardens of the... the _temple_ , Evie decided. It was clear to her from the look of the place and the things the Doctor had said (and impressions she had picked up in that very tense situation in River’s room) that Isrea was a priest of some kind, one whose job it was to look after the burial grounds and care for weary travellers. She sighed and squeezed Jack’s hand. “Thank you, Jack,” she said, and pulled him down to kiss him.

“For what?”

“For backing off. I... you scared me a little back there in River’s room,” she admitted and he groaned. He hated frightening Evie. But when she was hurt...

“Scared myself a little. I haven’t reacted that way in... oh in centuries.” He sighed. “But I just... _reacted_ ; I--” he broke off as she kissed him again and tugged him toward a stone bench in a little nearby alcove made of what looked like feathery pink palm trees. They sat and she snuggled close and buried her face into his chest. It didn’t take long for him to feel the first tear soak through his shirt and he just tightened his arms around her and held on. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair just above the bruise. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just...” he paused because she was shaking her head. Then he realised what was wrong... because there _are_ drawbacks to being an empath and he’d seen her like this before when she felt she couldn’t help someone she loved. “You can’t help River now, lovely Evie,” he said quietly, “but you can help the Doctor. I’ll look after River for you both.” She looked up at him and gave him a little smile. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll manage not to hurt Isrea in the process...”

“I’m not worried about that, lover,” she said with a raised eyebrow, “I saw how you were looking at her by the time you calmed down. But don’t scare her by coming on too strong either. We don’t know anything about the customs of her people. We can explore that... possibility... once we’ve got River and the Doctor sorted, okay?”

“Everyone thinks I’m just a sex machine,” he complained good-naturedly, “and they’re right. But I don’t get off on scaring the crap out of people before I make a move.” He grinned at her. “And then there’s you, my lovely Evie. Gimme a kiss and then we’ll go sort out our friends, OK?”

“Okay,” Evie said softly, and kissed him gently. The kiss was sweet and warm, and Jack just wanted to stay there with her, but... she was right, they needed to get everyone sorted first.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“River?” She heard the voice, Jack’s familiar voice, a _friend_... and she struggled to sit up. The Haemogoth lady supported her and fussed about with pillows, shot a wary glance and a warning hiss at Jack, and left the room. He sighed and sat on the bed next to her, not touching in case her nerves were still raw. “Never met a nurse I couldn’t charm with a smile before.” River tried to smile and make a witty remark like _yeah, but you don’t usually try to kill them first_ , but instead she simply began to cry. It was nothing so violent as bursting into tears, but the pretty green eyes overflowed and Jack held out his arms, leaving it up to her if she wanted to be held. She sniffled and lifted a shaky hand to wipe her eyes.

“Better not,” she said weakly, “You’ve psychic training and my--”

“--Shut up,” he interrupted, and earned a watery smile at the reminder. “You can worry about whether my psychic training will hurt _you_ , but don’t you _dare_ fret about hurting me. You _can’t_ hurt me, River, it’s not possible. You could.. your mind could fling me through that stone wall and I’d come back for more, as long as it didn’t hurt you.” He watched her as her hand crept toward his outstretched one, ready to pull back if she showed the slightest sign of pain. He’d feel terrible if he was responsible for her experiencing more pain today.

And he wasn’t. River held her breath as she touched his hand, but when she felt no pain inside her mind, she grasped it like a lifeline. And then she burst into tears in earnest as Jack gathered her into his lap and rocked her like a baby, making soothing little sounds into her hair as she wept.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Evie felt wretched. The headache had faded to a dull throb, but she was still slightly queasy, and she was unable to help River. To Evie there was very little as disheartening - sometimes to the point of actual pain - as being unable to help someone she loved, and she _hated_ it. _Maybe I can at least help the Doctor_ , she thought as she headed to where they had left the TARDIS.

But when Evie poked her head in he was nowhere to be seen. She could hear him, she thought, somewhere under the console maybe, so she started down the stairs. There he was, in his shirtsleeves in that swing he used while doing repairs, tinkering with something complicated that emitted sparks now and then. She stopped and watched him fondly as he crooned to the ship, little murmurs of endearment like _that’s my girl_ as he stroked a panel _,_ or _naughty naughty, dear_ at a particularly spectacular shower of sparks. She waited until he sat back to view his handiwork and cleared her throat. “Can I help?” she asked when he looked up at the sound.

The Doctor was flustered that he hadn’t seen her; how long had she been there? And why hadn’t Sexy warned him? So he clambered out of the swing and walked past Evie up the stairs, motioning for her to follow him. “No,” he said shortly as she complied, “I’m fine.” There was another shower of sparks, from the console this time, and he hurried up the stairs. “What?” he asked of the console, rhetorically it seemed, and since he appeared to have forgotten Evie entirely, she turned to leave the ship. She was fighting tears, but _he_ didn’t need to know that; it would only upset him and it wasn’t his fault that she really _needed_ to help someone - _anyone_ \- today.

“Evie.” The Doctor said her name before she reached the door, and she stopped, but she didn’t turn around. “Evie, I’m sorry.” _His voice sounds tired_ , she thought, _and now I’ve made his day even harder._ She started when he put one hand on her shoulder; she hadn’t heard him approach. “Does your head still hurt?” She shook it, because it didn’t really; the pain was less physical than that. “Then... oh.” It was an _oh_ full of meaning, as he realised - _or maybe Sexy told him_ , the clinical part of Evie thought, _they have a very deep bond, well below the conscious level_ \- he realised that she only wanted to _help_.

 _She only wants to help_ , thought the Doctor, _she_ needs _to help. And helping River got her thrown against a wall where it only bruised me. Is that because she’s a trained telepath and more open to the connection? Or because she’s so tiny? Or..._ and then his mind - or Sexy’s - shouted **_focus!_** at him and he used the hand on Evie’s shoulder to turn her gently around to look at him.

Her face was tear-stained and _anguished_ and he didn’t think, he just bent to press his lips to her forehead. _I’m sorry, Evie, I know exactly how you feel_ , his mind said to hers, _we only want to help her and we_ can’t. _I..._ And then a tear trickled down his cheek too.

_(grief, love)_

The Doctor smiled a tired smile and led Evie to the blue velvet sofa by the console, where they sat together companionably, each taking strength from the other’s warm mental presence - and that of the TARDIS - until the tears had all been cried out.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

The Doctor and Evie emerged from the TARDIS, both looking simultaneously exhausted and energised. When she spotted Rory and Amy walking in the garden, Evie waved and the couple walked over, Amy looking angrily suspicious and Rory resigned. “Do I have to be fatherly and protective of River?” he asked the Doctor, who just looked at him uncomprehendingly, and Evie laughed.

“That’s the reaction of someone whose sole exposure to 52nd century sexual mores is Jack Harkness in the twentieth,” she said, and giggled. “However, no you don’t, no you _won’t_ , and honestly, is it any of your business who River - or her husband - sleeps with?” The Doctor began to splutter indignantly - _It’s not like that, not that there’s anything wrong with Evie, of course there’s not, I didn’t mean, I’m sure you’re perfectly lovely in bed and_ \- and Evie laughed again and wormed her way between Rory and Amy, linking arms with both of them. Rory had the grace to look embarrassed and Amy’s face was scarlet again. “Truly, even if I were to shag the Doctor - in which he’s never shown any real interest - I _wouldn’t_ without River’s full knowledge and consent. And Jack’s, although getting _his_ consent would never be a problem.” She smiled impishly up at the taller pair, then grew serious. “Just because the interest in anyone with a pulse is common during our century doesn’t mean we act on it with no ethics, you know--”

“--and I already told you that Evie’s too ethical for her own good,” said Jack, coming up behind them. “River’s asleep, but she’s had a good cry now, and she was more... _there_... before she dropped off. I think she’ll be okay.”

Amy gave him a hard look and pulled her arm away from Evie. “Are you a doctor?” she demanded of Jack, “or a nurse?” He shook his head and she rolled her eyes angrily. “Then how would _you_ know she’ll be okay?” Jack glanced at Rory and Evie and at the latter’s short nod he looked Amy in the face and spoke, his tone sharp.

“I know because I’m one of her closest friends, I know how she reacts when she’s feeling like herself, and frankly, I’ve seen a lot more of her in the past fifteen years - of _her_ life - than you have.” Rory gave him alook _\- enough -_ and his voice softened. “I know you feel protective of her, Amy, and you probably always will. You should, she’s your kid. And it is possibly the _strangest_ parent-child relationship in the history of the universe; I was a Time Agent and I’ve seen them all.” He put his hands gently on Amy’s shoulders and looked straight into the rebellious hazel eyes. “But Amy, there’s one way that you have to act like any other parent. You have to learn when to let go.”

Amy wanted to argue, she wanted to shout at him, she wanted to cry. But those deep blue eyes were watching her with such compassion, and he and Evie had taken such good care of her daughter and her Doctor for years it sounded like, and neither of them had blamed River for Evie’s injury for one instant although Jack had been so angry, and they’d included her and Rory in the little circle of friends without question. So Amy did what she thought he would understand; she kissed him. Just a peck on the cheek and a whispered _I’ll try_ , and then she turned away into Rory’s comforting embrace.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

River had awakened as soon as Jack left the room; the comforting presence of someone she couldn’t hurt was gone, and her nerves and her mind were still raw enough to feel the lack. It no longer hurt enough to make her sick, but she felt terribly lonely, and all she wanted was her Doctor. Oh, her parents were lovely and she had needed them, Jack and Evie were her closest - maybe _only_ \- friends, and she loved them both dearly. But she wanted her _husband_ , the man she loved, she wanted him here where she could make wicked little remarks to make him blush and wave his hands around, or kiss him until time stopped for them both.

Was that so much to ask of the universe?

River didn’t often indulge in feeling sorry for herself, not since she had been Mels. But now she was ill, and she wanted her love, and she couldn’t touch him. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the last time they couldn’t touch - the time that touching had meant his death - but it was bad enough that all she could do was lie here thinking bitter thoughts about the universe and her place in it. It had been different in Stormcage; there the barriers were literal, physical, nothing a sonic screwdriver couldn’t fix. But here the barriers were those of safety, unwillingness to hurt, and yearning for him while unable to touch.

When he came into the room, attempting - badly - to be quiet, she pretended to sleep because it was easier than seeing him and not being able to touch him. She was curled up, facing the wall and trying not to cry again - not only did she hate feeling that weak but she didn’t want him to hear her - and she listened as he pulled a heavy chair over to the side of her bed. “Ah, my River,” he said softly, “I need you, River, more than you could possibly know, more than I’ve ever said, and I _hate_ knowing that my very...” he choked a bit... “my very touch hurts you.” River listened, aghast that he was worried about the pain _he_ caused _her_. Jack had been, but Jack couldn’t _be_ hurt, and now her love was fretting that he had hurt her? No, it had been she who hurt him, and hurt Evie, and... she turned over to look at him.

“I’m sorry, my love.”


	6. All That he Could Give Her

“I’m sorry, my love.” River’s voice shook, and the Doctor moved as if to hold her, but stopped for fear he’d hurt her again, and her already woebegone face crumpled. No defenses this time, not even the frozen half-smile she got when she was terribly hurt, nothing but pain and grief and... _No, my River, no, no no.._. he thought, please don’t, _don’t_... it was _killing_ him not to be able to just hold her, and it obviously upset her and, and...  he had to _do_ something, _say_ something, anything to wipe that terrifying expression of absolute _despair_ from her face. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

“River... oh my River, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he said gently, and manufactured a smile for her. “None of this was your fault, just a bad set of circumstances.”

“But I _hurt_ you, and I hurt _Evie_ , and I didn’t even ask Jack if she was alright!” She wasn’t actively crying, but there were tears behind her voice, and it hurt him to hear them. He decided to treat her as he would any of his companions when they were sick; if he was casual about it rather than intense, maybe it would help her to feel... normal.

“Now, River,” he said in a faintly scolding voice, “You know Jack Harkness nearly as well as I do, and d’you _really_ think that he would’ve sat here for hours with you if he thought for one instant that Evie wouldn’t be just fine? His beloved Evie, his first lover, the _one_ person he always comes back to? That’s rubbish and you know it.” He smiled at her and gentled his voice. “And you should’ve heard the two of them explaining fifty-second century sexual codes to your parents! I’m a thousand years old and I have never seen _anyone_ put someone’s erroneous assumptions to completely to rest as I did when they ganged up - gently - on Amy; it was lovely to behold.” He rolled his eyes and grinned, and was delighted to win a small smile from River.

“What about Rory?” she asked, her voice rusty but clearly recovering, and he laughed.

“Rory seems to know better; I gather that he and Jack have er... kept company back when Rory was the Last Centurion.” River’s smile grew infinitesimally wider. “But Amy assumed that not only was Jack taking advantage of you in your weakened state,” he winked at her, “but that Evie and I were uh... well... doing the same behind your back.”

River groaned. “Oh bless,” she said, “what did Evie tell her?”

“Basically that even though Jack um... ‘says hello’ to everyone who moves, that doesn’t mean he isn’t an honourable person, and that she and I hadn’t ‘said hello’, and _wouldn’t_ without your full consent.” His voice softened further. “And then Jack himself got into the act and told Amy that - just like any parent - she’d have to learn to let her chick fly the nest.” He sniffled a little. “Even I hadn’t quite realised how important that would be to Jack... he must have had to do that dozens of times along the way,” he said softly, then shook his head as though to clear it and smiled at her again.

“I’ve missed you,” River said softly. “I’ve been out of Stormcage for - oh, several weeks - and I missed you. Sometimes I think you’re harder to find when I’m _not_ incarcerated than when I am.” She gave him a wavery little smile. “Thank you, my love, for showing me that you’re _here_ , even when I can’t do naughty things to you to make you blush.”

He blushed and she giggled. _She giggled_ , he thought gratefully even as he blushed harder.

“Anything for you, my lovely Mrs. Robinson,” he said cheekily.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t. Now sleep again, my River, and heal.”

She fell asleep again almost immediately, and he left the room. He had a surprise in mind for her, and he was going to have to deal with _archaeology_ to get it.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“Isrea,” the Doctor said softly as he entered the... chapel, he supposed, it had that look to it. “Isrea, Doctor wishes for Isrea’s help.” She looked up, startled into her crest rising a bit, but then she saw it was him and she relaxed. She got up gracefully from her position on the mat on the floor and blew out the oil lamp she had there, then turned to face him.

“Dok-tor is well?” she asked, concerned, “Dok-tor’s face is the colour of the sun at circle’s-end.”

He laughed. “The colour of the sun at circle’s-end is called _red_ in the language of River and Doctor,” he said, “and now Doctor’s face is red because... the reason is not important now. But Doctor has a favour to ask of Isrea.” She tilted her head in that bird-like fashion he had come to recognise as gentle inquiry. “Isrea is an historian, a Keeper of the Tales of the Ancients?” he began, and she nodded human-fashion. “Would... would Isrea share the Tales of the Ancients with Doctor and River?” He hoped he wouldn’t offend her; knowledge of the taboos of various cultures did _not_ come along with the language.

But she was apparently pleased rather than offended; her crest flared in a completely different direction this time, from ear to ear rather than front to back, and he got the definite impression that this was the equivalent of a delighted grin. “Oh _yes,_ ” she said, more animated than he had yet seen her, “Isrea would be _honoured_ to share the Tales of the Ancients with Riv-er and Dok-tor. When can Isrea begin?” She looked ready to go pounce on River right then and there and the Doctor laughed again – apparently she didn’t get to share her stories often enough for her taste.

“River is sleeping,” he said. “River needs rest to...” _how do I say ‘sleep off’?_ he wondered. “River needs more rest to make the blood-poison go away.” Isrea looked... he nearly laughed, because the word that came to mind was _crestfallen_... at this, and he said, “Perhaps Isrea could think of the Tales and decide which Tales to tell to River?” She nodded, but looked thoughtful.

“If Isrea is making amends to Riv-er by telling Riv-er the Tales, Isrea should also speak with the one called Jack and the one called Ev-ie, and apologise again for the pain Isrea has caused Ev-ie and Jack,” she said, obviously steeling herself for an unpleasant encounter. “Will Dok-tor tell Isrea’s words to Jack and Ev-ie? Isrea does not want misunderstanding...” she trailed off, looking subdued, and really it was remarkable how easy her body language was to read now, after only a day or two in her presence.

The Doctor put out a hand and Isrea took it hesitantly. “Of course Doctor will tell Isrea’s words,” he said gently. “Preventing misunderstanding is a pleasant task for a friend.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

They found the other four in the garden, under the same feathery pink palm trees where Jack and Evie had sat before, and Isrea paused. “Isrea must also speak with the not-Jack man and the not-Ev-ie woman,” she whisper-hissed, her long tongue tickling the Doctor’s ear.

“The man is Rory and the woman is Amy,” he said, not wanting her to go through the effort of describing them each time she spoke.

“Riv-er is the hatchling of Ro-ry and A-my, yes?” she asked, and he nodded assent, amused at the thought. “Then Isrea must apologise for injuring the hatchling of Ro-ry and A-my also. Adults must make apology when adults have done wrong; apology for wrong-doing is the difference between adult and hatchling.” The Doctor squeezed the scaly hand he held and led her to the little group under the trees.

“Isrea has something she wants to say,” he said, “and since Sexy’s translation field is still off she has asked me to translate - to ‘tell her words’ she calls it.” Amy looked startled, Rory warily receptive, Evie warmly welcoming as always, and Jack impassive, willing to listen but not yet ready to change his mind. “The language of her people is very convoluted,” the Doctor explained, “so I’ll be paraphrasing.” He turned to Isrea, who looked apprehensively at the group, crest up in distress, and began, with him translating as she went along.

“Isrea says to Amy and Rory that she is ashamed that she caused hurt to their hatchling, Water-that-moves-swiftly, and that she wants to assure them that the effects of the blood-poison will wear off, but she is not sure how long that will take because River’s - the word doesn’t really translate, but call it ‘biochemistry’ - is unique. She hopes that River’s sire and dam will forgive her and accept the hospitality of her temple as long as is required for River to be well.” He paused. “Speaking for myself, she gave nearly the same formal apology to me, because I am River’s mate.” Isrea folded both her hands in a complicated gesture under her snout, then spread them and bowed deeply to Rory, then Amy. Then she stood and faced Jack and Evie, and took a deep breath, then began to speak.

“Isrea feels great shame and pain for causing the hurt to River that caused hurt to Evie,” the Doctor translated, “and she will give her life in exchange if Evie has been permanently harmed.” Evie moved as though to go to Isrea herself but Jack held her back and whispered something in her ear. She looked a bit startled but nodded, and the Doctor continued, “If giving of her life is not required, she would like to extend the same courtesy to you, Evie, and your mate Jack, the hospitality of her temple, her home, as long as it is needed for you to feel better.”

“But I already feel better,” protested Evie, “and while I’ll gladly accept her hospitality, her life certainly isn’t required!”

“No, it’s not,” said Jack, “but she clearly feels the need to confess her... her sins, I guess, and be forgiven by those she sees as having sinned against. And their mates and parents, it seems.” He grinned, and when Isrea reacted with alarm to the bared teeth, wiped the smile off his face immediately. “And... looks like although she’s willing to give her life, she doesn’t want to give it by me tearing her throat out with my teeth. Doctor, will you translate back for me?”

The Doctor nodded, and relayed Jack’s words into a form Isrea could understand. “Jack wishes for Isrea to know that she is forgiven, and that Jack feels shame for Jack’s anger. Jack would also like to say that... Jack Harkness, I will _not_ translate that!” he said in English, shocked, and Evie giggled at the expression on his face. “Ask her... ask her _that_ on your own time!”

“Oh, but Doctor,” said Jack, pouting and fluttering his eyelashes, “we don’t share a common language...”

“Dok-tor,” said Isrea, sounding confused, “Why do Dok-tor and A-my have faces the colour of the sun at circle’s-end again?”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

“And so the Ancients left the humans of the planet River calls Earth,” said the Doctor, “because the humans could now care for themselves. And the time when the Leaving occurred was many...” the Doctor broke off with a yawn and River smiled at him. He’d been telling her Isrea’s stories for three days now and he was tired. _Time Lords might not need much sleep,_ she thought, _but even for my love three solid days of talking is perhaps a bit much_. _I think he even told me her stories as I slept._

“You should go to bed, Sweetie,” she said softly, and he smiled at her.

“Isrea,” he said quietly, “River and the Doctor are fatigued and must rest now. The Doctor thanks Isrea for all Isrea has done for the Doctor and River and the friends.. Isrea nodded and rose from the stool she habitually sat on, touching River’s face gently before she turned away.

“Have a good night, Doctor,” she said simply, and shut the door behind her. He turned to River propped up on pillows in her bed, and was surprised to see her with her mouth hanging open in shock.

“River?” he said, alarmed, and her mouth snapped shut. “River, what is it? Are you alright? Shall I get Isrea? Or Rory? River!” River murmured something that he didn’t hear and he leaned closer to her, careful not to touch. “River?”

“I heard her,” River whispered. “She said, ‘have a good night, Doctor.’ I _heard_ her. My love, I heard what she said. _In English_.” He stared at her for a moment, then reached out hesitantly, but didn’t touch her. His hands were shaking. “My love, Sweetie,” River said, “don’t just sit there. Touch me.”

He swallowed hard several times, but his voice was still hoarse with emotion and _need_ when he finally spoke. “I’ll make it a good one,” he whispered, and leaned in to kiss her.

“You’d better.”

 

 

 


End file.
